


Touch

by 19thsentry



Series: Window of Opportunity [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:57:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19thsentry/pseuds/19thsentry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tara and Spike begin down the road of the human emotion called Friendship while trying to protect the Hellmouth with the remaining Scoobies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

Summers were always quieter on the Hellmouth. It was one of those well-known truths, and it was probably the reason they weren’t swarmed with dead bodies and demon mayhem. Spike smoked idly, walking a bit behind Giles, Xander, Anya, and the Bot. Tara had wandered back to walk next to him. She’d started doing so tentatively, but now it was just something they did. Until, of course, an actual demon came. Then they all ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. 

It took four humans, a vampire, and a robot to keep up with the Hellmouth in the summer. The Slayer could have done it with one hand behind her back. When Spike looked at it that way, he had no clue how the fuck he was still alive. Buffy could have taken him out easy, but she never did. He wished he could believe it was because she didn’t want to kill him, but even he wasn’t that daft.

The point being, he was going to have to step up the mayhem now that they were down a witch. Rupes didn’t want to tell anyone that Buffy was gone, but he was going to have to eventually. Maybe it made it less real to him if he didn’t let the council wankers know. Spike wasn’t sure, but to him, it didn’t matter, because he lived with Buffy being gone every day. It was impossible not to notice, and not talking about it didn’t make it any less real. So, the Slayer was dead, and summer wasn’t going to last forever. No one could replace Buffy, no Slayer could replace the real one, and it was up to this crack team to protect the Hellmouth. 

Plus, the Watcher was the only one of the lot that had actual training with weapons. Old man could hold his own in the right situations, but he was only here a week at a time nowadays, splitting his time between Sunnyhell and England. 

“Spike! Oh no!” The Bot’s high pitched exclamation was barely warning enough for him to duck and prevent himself from getting swiped halfway across the cemetery.

“Bloody fuck!” Spike cursed and rolled out of the way of another swipe from something big, ugly, and sharp. A cursory glance let him know Tara had gotten out of the way too.

“Don’t worry, Spike! I’m coming!” 

Spike watched as the Bot came flying in, occupying the demon from the front. Fuck, he really hated that stupid thing. Spike hopped up and ran behind the demon, hoping to jump on its back and snap its neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other three trying to fend off the demon’s buddy that had come out to play too. Great. Just what they needed. 

Spike saw his chance when the Bot got punched—making it fly into the other fight. Quite literally. While it was occupied, Spike jumped, gripping its shoulders (fuck, gross, slimy, hard to grip). He couldn’t get the right leverage. The demon reared back, intent on smashing him against the crypt wall that was now behind them—bugger, brace for impact—

Without warning, he heard Tara’s voice shouting, and the demon roared and pitched to the left. With no crypt behind them to bounce off of, both of them fell to the ground (him on bottom, fuck all), but he took his chance to grab it by the horns and wrench, hearing that lovely crack that screamed success. The cemetery was still full of noises of fighting, although it sounded like the Bot and Rupes had turned the tides.

Spike was glad he didn’t need to breathe, because the demon would have been suffocating him by now. Over the dead demon’s shoulder he watched as Tara ran over to him, and helped (very little) to push the damn thing off of him. Spike let out a huff as it flopped over and he twisted himself into a sitting position. 

“Thanks, pet,” Spike said, shaking his head a bit, trying to clear the banging that was his brain. He’d taken a real spill there. 

Without a word, she was there behind him, tenderly checking the back of his head for the lump that would inevitably form with the tips of her fingers. “S-sorry,” Tara stammered, “I didn’t mean for you to fall like that. Is your head okay?” 

Spike resisted the urge to turn and look at her. “Head’s harder than it looks,” he replied gruffly, standing up as he normally would. “Shake it off, right?” Tara stood as well, her blue eyes still big with worry. 

His chest clenched. 

The rest of the group huffed and puffed over to them, the Bot making some jumbled up one-liner that made him flinch. “All taken care of?” Giles asked, breathing heavily and holding his side. Old man was going to break his back one of these days.

“Tara with the assist,” Spike said, gesturing to the dead lump of flesh behind him. 

“Tara? Truly?” Giles looked over at the witch with pride and disbelief all in one. She blushed. 

“Prevented me from gettin’ squashed like a bug.” 

“Shame,” Xander jibbed, almost good naturedly. 

Spike ignored him, and they all moved on again to the next cemetery. The vampire kept a sharp eye on Tara throughout the night, wondering how That Fight would have gone if Glory hadn’t put her fingers in one brain in particular. Tara was always slipping through the cracks, with her specific brand of strength and power… 

He was going to have to stop underestimating her.


End file.
